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What do a film about a cheerleader who murders her abusive step-dad and a Russian novel about guilt and moral superiority have in common? On the evidence of Crime + Punishment In Suburbia, nothing. Rob Schmidt's film is so shallow that even a mouse couldn't paddle in it. By alluding to Dostoevsky in the title, it only emphasises the gulf between this pretentious American Beauty clone and a classic work of depth and meaning.
Inconsistencies, bad judgements and plain mistakes pile up as the minutes drag by. Late on, the voice-over switches character without reason, confusing the audience's perspective. The creepy geek tattooes "por nada" on his arm one minute, then is all smiles the next.
Only the post-grunge soundtrack and a few acting turns stop the audience from rising up and tearing down the screen in anger. Stop, we've been punished enough.
